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“We still haven’t heard from our friendly neighborhood mole,” Juan said. “Has he gone underground?”
Like Juan and every other operative in the Corporation, Eddie Seng had a subdermal tracking chip implanted in his thigh. Using the body’s own energy for power, it sent out a pulse beacon each minute that wasn’t detectable by standard bug-scanning devices. With GPS technology, his location could be pinpointed to within a few dozen yards.
Eric checked his tablet computer. “I’ve got him, Chairman. The most recent broadcast from his chip was near the railroad tracks ten miles south of us.”
“That must be where the Chinese are planning to intercept us. We’ll need to make the exchange by then.”
Juan had to assume the Chinese Ministry of State Security agents were monitoring their communications. He texted Eddie the train information.
Engine #9736. Leaving Huong Thuy in 2 minutes.
He dropped the phone on the asphalt and ground it to pieces with his foot. Eric watched him but said nothing. He understood that Juan didn’t want the MSS agents to know Eddie’s supposed contact wasn’t already on the train with the rest of the Ghost Dragons.
Like all missions that the Corporation undertook, this was one their client couldn’t handle themselves. After leaving his field agent position at the CIA, Juan had created the mercenary organization to carry out operations that his old employer wasn’t able to, because either it didn’t have the capabilities required for the job or have plausible deniability in case of failure. The Corporation also took on other clients as long as the operation was never in conflict with the interests of the United States.
Today’s mission came straight from the top.
When the Ghost Dragons had approached the American government through Taiwanese back channels with their sales proposal, the CIA was dubious that the memory stick they were offering actually contained the names of the undercover MSS agents operating in the U.S. The problem was finding out what was on the flash drive while they were in the field. The National Security Agency had long known about the self-erasing technology China used for its sensitive information transfers, but the only way to crack the code was with gigantic supercomputers the NSA had designed specifically for the task. Since Juan couldn’t check out the flash drive contents on a laptop without inadvertently deleting it, he wouldn’t be able tell if he was handing over fifty million taxpayer dollars for sensitive Chinese state secrets or the Premier’s grocery list.
Eddie had needed to make contact with the MSS himself to confirm what was on the memory stick. Based on the information Eddie had fed to them, the Chinese security agency was undertaking a risky plan to intercept the exchange and retrieve the flash drive. That’s when Juan knew the Ghost Dragons were selling the real thing.
The rules for the handoff itself were relatively simple. When the train slowed at the railroad crossing, Juan and Eric would jump onto the platform of the train’s rear car as it passed. They would then make their way to the center dining car, likely being monitored by the triad on hidden cameras as they walked through each car. They could bring no weapons with them. Once it was confirmed they were alone and unarmed, the exchange would take place. They would take possession of the flash drive while fifty million dollars of U.S. government money was wired to an account of the triad’s choosing. Then the train would slow again to let them off at another road crossing.
“Chairman,” Eric said, looking at his phone, “I just got acknowledgment from Linc and Murph. They’re ready.”
“Then let’s get this party started.”
Their appearance was designed to put the triad at ease. Eric was one of the youngest members of the Corporation, a Navy vet who had been in technology development during his short stint in the service. He looked like the shy computer geek he was, down to his neatly combed hair, black glasses, blue button-down shirt, and creased khaki chinos. Eric was there to confirm that it really was an MSS secure flash drive, and he didn’t look like much of a threat.
On the other hand, Juan, with blond hair, blue eyes, a tan dating from his days surfing in his native California, and a swimmer’s lean physique, looked l
ike a man able to take care of himself. The Ghost Dragons would anticipate a trained operative making the buy, but instead of wearing the expected suit, Juan went casual, wearing a short-sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots.
As the locomotive chugged slowly past, the Vietnamese engineer scowled at them. Juan was impressed by the luxurious appointments in the passenger cars as he scanned for signs of the triad members. Not only did the triad have some pull to get this train at all, they apparently wanted to make the exchange in style. Nobody was visible in the first two cars, but the third window’s curtains were drawn. The fifth car, where the exchange was to take place, was a dining car.
The remaining cars were similarly empty. When the last car reached them, Eric hopped on, followed by Juan.
“Time to meet our hosts,” Juan said.
He and Eric walked forward as the train began to accelerate back to its cruising speed. Juan spotted the cameras tucked into the lighting fixtures but gave no indication that he knew they were there. They’d be feeding a wireless signal to the Ghost Dragons, who had to be wary of a double cross. Eric didn’t pay attention to them, either, busily tapping on his tablet as they walked.
When they reached the seventh car, they were met by two armed triad soldiers who were young, sinewy, and dressed in tailored black suits. Both carried Brügger & Thomet MP9 machine pistols that weren’t much bigger than regular semiautomatics but could be fired on full auto. Not very accurate, but in the confines of a train car they could be deadly. Juan and Eric raised their hands.
“I’m Thomas Cates,” Juan said, giving them the name he’d used to set up the meet. “Let’s get this over with.”
While one of the men covered them with his machine pistol, the other carefully came toward them and patted down Eric, inspecting the tablet in his hand and the satchel slung over his shoulder that carried his laptop. Satisfied that Eric was unarmed, he frisked Juan.
When he checked Juan’s right ankle, he looked up in surprise and motioned for Juan to lift his pant leg, revealing a prosthetic limb attached just below the knee.
“Courtesy of the communists,” Juan said, which was the truth. His missing leg was the result of a shell fired from a Chinese destroyer. “See? We have a common enemy.”
The man said nothing. He just shrugged and nodded at his companion. They had passed inspection.
The second man gestured for Juan and Eric to wait while the one who had frisked them left.
Juan noticed that the train had now reached the rugged coastal portion of their route. As it snaked around the region’s mountains, the view out one side showed nothing but dense jungle while the opposite side was a scenic panorama of the ocean. Neither of the Ghost Dragons seemed to care about the vistas, which was just fine with Juan.
The Ghost Dragons were keeping watch toward the front of the train’s exterior in case of an ambush, but their range would be limited to a few hundred yards on either side. It was doubtful they’d pay any attention to the decrepit tramp steamer a mile out to sea, just another of the hundreds that plied Vietnamese waters. At this distance, it wouldn’t seem odd that such a creaky old cargo ship could keep pace with the speed of a modern train.
